


Magic Of Its Own

by adrift_me



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Coffee Shops, Drabble, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-31 09:10:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10896198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrift_me/pseuds/adrift_me
Summary: Hunched shoulders, quiet air, fearful eyes and an obedient posture. An epitome of what a healthy young man shouldn’t be. Every other day he visited the coffee shop and purchased a tiny bag of coffee beans. As soon as he received the order, he left the place without a single glance around.Until today.





	Magic Of Its Own

**Author's Note:**

> A small coffee shop AU (but not really) for [my awesome friend](gravesfrommacusa.tumblr.com) <3  
> I wanted to make use a coffee shop trope but leave it within the universe, so here it is.
> 
> I accept prompts in ask on my [tumblr](http://accio-toffy.tumblr.com/) :)

 

Over and over again Percival Graves found his way in a small no-maj coffee shop named after its owner - “At Jacob’s”.

“Jacob’s” little coffee shop had magic of its own, which Graves oddly appreciated. He liked its soft atmosphere, spicy cinnamon smell and complete and utter magic of the no-maj world. The owner himself, Jacob Kowalski, managed to fill the air with light happiness as if he brewed a potion daily, settling it to make his patrons’ heart just as light and merry as his own. But it was magic of a kind heart and such magic, Graves thought, was a rare treasure these days.

It was at Jacob’s that Graves could be just another customer and not the feared Head of Security of MACUSA. It was there that he could enjoy a delightful cup of coffee.

It was there that he met this strange boy.

He noticed him quite a long time ago, but still remembered the very first glimpse. Hunched shoulders, quiet air, fearful eyes and an obedient posture. An epitome of what a healthy young man shouldn’t be. Every other day he visited the coffee shop and purchased a tiny bag of coffee beans. As soon as he received the order, he left the place without a single glance around.

Until today, when Graves was standing all too close to the young man, awaiting his own order. Mr. Kowalski was busy with packing a set of pastries which Graves intended to sneak into the office and, perhaps, try and reward the aurors under his command. He wasn’t sure they would appreciate the gesture, but intended to follow through his plan nonetheless.

The mysterious young man was standing right next to him, eyes glued to the counter made of fine wood. He seemed to be quite eager to leave as much space between himself and Graves as he could, inching away and rocking on his heels.

Everything about the young man seemed wrong. Graves thought him a bird, a bird that is let out of its cage on a rare occasion, but doesn’t know how to fly. And so it wanders, seeking refuge and denying help, scared of eager hands that want nothing else but to help.

It wasn’t the most peculiar thing about him, however. It was the feeling of magic, emanating from his pale skin. It almost vibrated through the air, made hair on Graves’ arm stand and his heart beat fast.

A wizard! A wizard who seemed quite oblivious to what power streamed through his veins. There was so much remarkable about him and Graves felt the need to hold onto the counter from the force of excitement that took over him.

Mr. Kowalski set a beautifully wrapped box in front of Graves and flashed him a brilliant “have a good day, sir, and do come back again” grin. He smiled a little in return and stepped back, allowing the boy his space.

“The usual, Mr. Barebone?”

The young man nodded and Kowalski wandered off to prepare the order. Graves spared the awkwardness of the situation, giving the man’s back one last glance and leaving the coffee shop. He could swear he heard a tiny sigh of relief.

***

If his previous visits were for a cup of good coffee, they were now built on pure curiosity, driving him inside Kowalski’s place. At 9 o’clock on the dot young Barebone was at the counter, waiting for a tiny bag of coffee beans. And just as timely Graves, feeling awkward at his own stalking behaviour, sat at the far wall of the cozy spot and an untouched coffee cup steaming in front of him. He patiently watching the young man, piercing him with a glance. 

Though he hadn’t deviated from the time of his visits, they changed in the feeling. Soon enough Graves found himself mesmerized by the young man’s appearance. Appreciated the fine jawline and the pale marble of his skin. He had close to no knowledge about the man and was too hesitant to ask Kowalski for the details. Of course, he could resort to mind reading magic, but it was a vile and wrong idea, akin to rape which Graves most certainly wouldn’t come down to.

And it was a pure chance, a lucky one at that, that Graves stumbled into the boy the very next day.

“My apologies,” he said hurriedly, steadying the young man who almost staggered away. It took mere seconds to realise that his hands rested on Barebone’s shoulders. A surge of magic flashed through his fingers and it was a feeling so wonderful, that he wanted to keep his hands there for eternity. 

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled again, letting go of the boy and making a small step back. Barebone seemed rather shocked at the encounter. His arms pressed a stack of leaflets to his chest.

Suddenly it snapped in Graves’ mind, a recollection, a memory which had never been important. He recalled seeing the man before, somewhere in the street where he quite unsuccessfully tried to distribute “the word of God”. That time Graves didn’t pay much attention to the boy, had no reason to. And it was a mistake he regretted deeply, but not a mistake he couldn’t fix.

“I have quite a lot on my mind. I should be watching my step instead, lest I injure you,” he attempted a small warm smile, which was ignored altogether, though not intentionally.

“I’ve seen you before, haven’t I. In the coffee shop.”

The boy nodded, making small steps back and pressing the leaflets close ever so tight.

“I see you are cold. The weather is not at its best, is it. Would you object to a cup of coffee?”

He wanted to add “it’s almost 9AM and I know it’s the time you head to Jacob’s for the coffee beans”, but held the statement back. Something akin to this must have passed through the young man’s mind. Cornered, he shrugged at the invitation, which Graves acknowledged as a “yes”.

Wordlessly and rather awkwardly Graves and the mysterious man made their way to Jacob’s. At this time of day the place was deserted. With a happy tinkle of the doorbell, the strange pair entered the coffee shop, making their greetings to the owner and settling at one of the tables. Graves displayed his gentlemanly manners by helping Credence sit before walking to the counter and ordering their coffee.

It was only countless visits to the no-maj place that allowed Graves to hold back the desire to show his magic off. It was a thing he couldn’t allow, even if the will was strong. He could still feel magical vibes of the young man’s power, flowing through his body. Thousands of questions were filling Graves’ mind. Who were the boy’s parents? Why was he in the streets like that? Why did he look so beaten up and scared? Did he have any idea of what treasure he possessed within him? And most importantly, why did his hands bear marks of beating?

“Here you go, Mr. Graves. And you, Mr. Barebone,” Mr. Kowalski lowered a tray on the table, which held not only their order but a plate of pastries. He gave Graves a wink and returned to the counter where new clients were waiting.

“These are for you, I presume,” said Graves, indicating the pastries. Barebone didn’t move, however.

“I cannot.”

It was the first time Graves heard his voice. Trembling, quiet, unearthly.

“Why not?”

“I…”

His voice trembled again and died out. Graves’ mind clicked - “look at his clothes, do you think he can afford coffee and pastries?”. Condemning himself for such blindness, Graves leaned in, offering the young man a warm smile.

“I presume you are to give out leaflets afterwards. Say, I take them all as I’d love my colleagues to take a look, and you drink this coffee and eat a pastry. Is it a fair deal?”

Barebone looked up, his eyes loud with a question of who on earth would want those leaflets and why on earth would a man such as this need them at all. But slowly, he brought his hands up and settled the leaflets on the table. With a content smile Graves pulled them up closer while the young man carefully took his coffee cup.

“I never asked your name. And you don’t know mine. I am Percival Graves.”

“My name is Credence. Credence Barebone, sir.”

“A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

Apparently amazed at someone being pleased to meet him, Credence bit into one of the pastries, staring into the depths of his mind and contemplating. Graves took one of the leaflets and examined it. A disgusting promotion of an anti-magic campaign. Disastrous, if it ever pulled through, but harmless if crushed in time. A threat just for the Head of Magical Security, who just so happened to be sitting in a small cafe with Credence Barebone.

“Would you care to tell me more about Second Salem, Credence?”

***

He did tell him everything. Warmed by a kind heart and a good cup of coffee Credence braved a slightly louder voice and many short, but informative sentences about the idea of the Second Salem. What he didn’t say, Graves understood from his body language. Enough to see how much Credence feared his stepmother, how kind a heart he had and how much magic established itself in his body. Throughout the whole meeting Graves held back, trying to avoid asking questions of magic. Credence was still that scared bird which needed gentle care and learning to fly. Opening his cage was only the first step.

“I must go, Mr. Graves,” said Credence uncomfortably, shifting in his chair.

“Of course, Credence. I should leave as well for I have work to do.”

They threw coats over their shoulders and headed to the exit, when Graves stopped Credence by his shoulder. Ignoring yet another wave of magic, pulsing through him, Graves spoke to Mr. Kowalski.

“If you could please wrap a few of those pastries, sir.”

“Of course, Mr. Graves!”

“But do be so kind not to leave my name on the receipt. In fact, if you could… leave a different name, it would be much appreciated.”

Jacob nodded in confusion and got down to work.

Graves’ hand still rested on Credence’s shoulder. His gentle fingers held cheap fabric of the coat and inadvertently his thumb made calming circular movements against his shoulder.

“I’d like you to take these pastries home. Don’t mention my name. Consider it a donation.”

“Sir, I can’t!”

“I insist, Credence. Mr. Kowalski will see to the legitimacy of this gift and to my name left unmentioned. Won’t you, Jacob?”

“Of course. You kids there need some good treats to keep you happy and healthy. Here you go,” he set a box of hot pastries on the counter. With a look of utter disbelief, Credence took the box and left the shop alongside Graves. All the time till their leaving he mumbled “thank you” a thousand times over.

***

From that day on Graves and Credence spent time in the coffee shop. They spoke of things of no importance, got to know each other. Graves found himself enjoying his mornings, looking forward to them with eagerness akin to a schoolboy in love. Someone who he hadn’t been for many years now. And yet his heart fluttered at every door bell tinkle, at every figure by the window. And at every moment Credence sat beside him, drinking tiny cups of coffee, saying little but meaning so much.

A whole month later Graves was faced with disappointment - one hour into their usual time and Credence hadn’t arrived. Jacob was unaware of the boy’s absence, supposing he could have business at the church.

An unpleasant feeling crawled in Graves’ mind. Throughout the conversations he learnt enough to know that Credence had a strict schedule, which was broken only by Graves’ kindness in distributing the leaflets and taking supposed interest in Second Salem. He even went as far as to introduce himself to Mary Lou Barebone, Credence’s stepmother, doing it, however, in a careful manner, leaving no place for doubts or questions.

Thus Credence’s absence was a suspicious matter. Graves paid for his unfinished coffee and apparated from a nearby alleyway to the Second Salem church.

He found Credence in an unconcealed place, in the middle of a street not far from the church. He looked smaller than usual, hunching, as if trying to make himself unnoticeable under heavy gazes of passers by.

“Credence,” Graves called for him softly.

“Sir…”

“Is everything alright?”

“Yes, sir.”

Credence gripped onto the leaflets, making a small step away. Graves’ little bird was scared away again.

“Show me?” he asked softly, reaching out and inviting Credence to show what he was hiding within his hands. When no reply followed, Graves delicately pulled the young man aside and pushed them both into apparition.

They landed at the back of the coffee shop. Strong spicy smell immediately hit their noses, but it mattered not. Credence was breathing heavily, looking around.

“I shall explain later but you need to tell me what happened, Credence. I don’t want you to be in pain. Did your mother do something to you?”

Young Barebone shook his head, but it wasn’t an answer Graves wanted.

“Credence, please. I can help if you let me.”

Slowly, carefully, fearfully Credence let go of the leaflets and offered his hand for observation. Cut, punished, it had ugly red marks of a whip or a belt. In a wave of compassion Graves hovered his hand over the wounds which healed in a matter of seconds. His own fingers curled around Credence’s injured hand and pulled at him lightly. It was an invitation. An invitation eagerly accepted.

Graves’ arms enclosed around Credence, who moved with his whole being into the embrace. His face pressed into Graves’ chest. He could feel Credence’s soft hair under his chin. With his back leaning at the coffee shop’s wall, Graves held tight onto the young man, calming and cuddling him in strong warm arms.

“No harm will come to you now, that I can promise,” he said, rocking Credence in a hug. The young man pressed himself closer to Graves’ chest, one hand still holding onto the leaflets and another one wrapping round the man’s torso. Graves closed his eyes and inhaled strong pleasant smell of baked goods and coffee. Oh how blessed was the day he entered Jacob Kowalski’s coffee shop!


End file.
